


Breathing Deep (Klance)

by trendingtrash



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Eventual Everything, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, I Don't Even Know, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Sorry, Keith is a Guardian, Keith is blamed, Kuro is here!, M/M, Rebellion, Shiro (Voltron) is Missing, Traitor, klance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-11 20:57:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11722413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trendingtrash/pseuds/trendingtrash
Summary: Keith has been accused of treason to the Rebellion and with no one to defend him, he must rise the stakes himself.Keith believed he and Shiro were unbreakable, bound by duty as well as blood, but as the ink of Shiro's dismissal settles on Keith's skin he realizes the startling truth: He is alone and being used. As a day stretches into a month, Keith must form alliances to get somewhere. And someone.But who would befriend someone accused of murder?No one - or that's what Keith assumed until another peer of war linger in his shadows.





	Breathing Deep (Klance)

**Author's Note:**

> Tutor (Latin): Guardian. Protector.  
> Rector (Latin): Pilot. Leader.  
> Dux (Latin): Commander. Captain. 
> 
> If this Latin is incorrect, then I am sorry - I don't believe Google Translator is always correct.

Keith winced, a rain of debris fall heavily onto the  _Tutor_ , momentarily blinding him as he swayed dangerously close to the trench, his knees shaking from exhaustion. "Oh God." He cussed drily, stumbling away to much safer grounds, the hot air licking furiously at his face.  

The battle was already at a lost, with hundreds of individuals on the ground immobile. Either from death or injury, Keith didn't check. But the front line of the Rebellion had already crumpled, and the Galra men already already passed through these lines and into the city. How Keith missed them, he had no clue.  

Another city lost to the fire.  

Cursing colourfully, he pushed on, ear popping as he descended upwards to the tree-line. A base was constructed there and had hidden the enemy for a period of time. How their spies hadn't seen the obvious evidence, Keith - yet again - had no clue. It was most likely been a traitor, or even a spy of their own ranks. Or spies disguised as Rebel spies, who were disguised as Galra men. 

People liked to be on the winning side, whether it actually meant something to them, or not.  

Grunting, he paused, just instead the treeline, a handmade cliff face rose, smooth and wrapping around the hillside in a distinctive spiral upwards. If one managed to climb up with smooth cliff-face then they'd have to face several more climbs - each growing taller in size. How someone could miss this was beyond him. And yet again, the spy or traitor would've seen to keep his friends in order by promising survival when the enemy closes in.  

Hearts can easily be tainted.  

"Keith!" A voice snapped to his right in a harsh whisper, still nonetheless echoing in Keith's ears. "Code Sting."  

Keith pushed himself firmly against the face as the first gunshot sounded, giving off a distinctive _ping_ of a silencer. The dust in where Keith had stood rose at the impact. Keith watched it still, eyes drifting over to Shiro.  

Shiro appeared fine - maybe a little disheveled - but otherwise able. And breathing, which was the most important part, Keith reflected, as Shiro glanced slowly around the large trunk he hid behind. Obviously they had no idea that Shiro was present, who probably approached the base in more caution, then Keith had presented. Keith was grateful. 

Shiro's eyes meet Keith's, hands moving in a complex language. _Walking. Down. To. You._

Keith gave a firm nod, eyes scanning the sides of him, as he shuffled over to his left, carefully weighing his feet, allowing a silent approach to the furthering side of the spiral-like cliffs. They would probably think of Keith as a lowly solider, seeking to get credit for burning down the base within the tree-line, _hopefully_ , and wouldn't deem him intelligent enough to move once within shelter of the edge of the cliffs.

He'd have to wait until they were on the same level as he, hoping they would drop down to start the investigation and not move around the inner circle's edge, peering over he entire outer circle.

Measuring the smooth wall next to him, he held up his hand up, feeling the slope edge away even just a little.

Keith wasn't necessarily a tall person, but if he jumped high enough he could possibly actually grab the other person's collar, or hanging item. A strap? Possibly. 

Crouching, he waited, the Galra soldiers edging forward in a cautious manner, their footsteps hard against the ground. “Search around.” A voice snap, followed by a series of running footsteps.

A footsteps neared, the clicking of the gun reloading, clucking hard against the metal. Keith braced himself, as he felt the boy's eyes shift onto him and jumped. 

Fumbling to grab the gun strap, Keith pulled the boy down with him, the impact of Keith's body on the smooth earth face, sent rumble to crumple away, dust rising to meet the commotion. 

Caught by surprise, the boy barely struggled, only giving one heave before Keith felt his pulse leave his body, neck smoldering with the evidence of his death. The boy would be no older than 15, eyes still wide and purple. Very much human, but undoubtedly there was Galra blood present within him – how else would the boy be allowed to join their ranks?

Or had they gotten desperate and fallen onto their human followers? Keith highly doubted it. 

Pulling the weapon from the boy, Keith shrugged it onto his own shoulder, patting him down. Finding nothing else useful, he moved on, rechecking the edge of the higher level. It wouldn't be long before the other three noticed the boy's disappearance, and would move out to find him.

Shifting his attention back onto Shiro, he grimaced, hands moved sharply. _Get. Away. Report. Back. To._ Dux.

Shiro's eyebrows furrowed, hands gracefully forming words. _I. Can. Handle. Myself._ And after a moment: _Thank-you._

Keith found himself smiling. _Doubt. It._

Shiro didn't even need to warn him. _Left._

Keith aimed and fired, the head concaving at the brute force, blood spraying wide and hands hanging limp on the dead body. Moments passed and the body dropped, slumping into the ground next to Keith. 

The clicking of the re-load signified the others approach – though all seemed wise enough to approach with wariness that Keith hadn't known people possessed. Shiro flashed a grin, rolling away from the tree and firing fast, approaching Keith with agility that no man his stature should be able. The shots echoed across the edges, but not hitting home – after all it was only to serve as a distraction.

Falling hard into the wall, Shiro nodded again, “More men up on the highest level – it looks as though they expected to gather back up here before reaching across the river in the Altean territory.” Keith didn't say anything, as his _Rector_ offered a step up, hand laced together. Stepping firmly onto it, he leaped confidently onto the next level, gun already raised and hitting their desired targets.

Keith wasn't the best shoot when it came to guns, but good enough to hit the general target. And if you hit that, then the individual would linger in shock, mind slowing down offering another chance as killing the solider before he pulled himself together again.

Luckily though, his shots proved fatal, and in moments Keith was pressed against the other face, gun angled to get anyone that proved to be able to shoot at Shiro as he descended up and onto the same ground.

Panting, Keith groaned, as Shiro joined him, followed with a wild rain of shots, that cracked heavily against and off the angles of the ground. “Keith grunted, lowing his gun, “Any idea how to get there faster?” He rasped, voice hoase.

Shiro's eyes drew back together again, “We need to draw them to us.” He replied, voice soft and unable to carry.

With a sigh, Keith stepped out into sight, the rays of sun hitting his back as he removed himself from the relative safety of the wall. Each shot missed, falling at his ankles and he paced relentlessly. The air guiding the pieces of metal away from the skin. Keith looked up to the top, “There's two of us!-”  

_One. Three. Six. Nine. Eleven._

“- And eleven of you, come and kill us. I'm sure we're easy.” It was probably true, after all, they were clearly outnumbered, and had faced crossing the battlefield to get here. These soldiers would be refreshed and if not, a little bit contempt. 

Shots fired again, forcing Keith back under to safety, Shiro's arm doing must of the pulling. “What. Do. You. Think. You. Are. Doing?” He snapped, voice sharp and crisp with anger. And maybe relief.

“Drawing them down here.” Keith replied eveningly, 

Shiro's face deflated, as he held up a grenade, “What about provoke first?”

Keith snatched the ball away, pulling out the trigger and throwing, Thirty seconds passed, the silence before the disaster stretched out until finally- _boom!_

The garnade shook the ground, sending low vibrations and soundwaves through the clearing, ruffling up the trees. Provoked, check.

Keith grinned, “How's gonna beat that they won't have to draw power?” He chanaglled,

Shiro matched his smile, eyes bright, “I beat at least half by rations.”

 

* * *

 

 

Both individuals hadn't needed to draw any sort of power, as the climbed their way to the top, panting and grazed up. Keith grinned, through the exhaustion, but it was Shiro who spoke first, “Good job, Keith. Though I doubt throwing yourself into the firing line was completely sane and sensible.”

Keith snorted, already over to the heavy machinery of the high-tec guns, “No one calls me sensible, Shiro.” He pointed out, turning away from him. 

“But I hope you consider yourself sane.” Shiro chuckled, offering another jib.

Keith grinned, heaving a Blaster onto his shoulder, and peering into the seeker, “Sometimes you can't tell the difference between insane and sane.” He returned back, scanning the ground. 

“A gray area for you then, hmm?” Shiro retorted, with a smile. Shiro always gave a lesson like this, more like a conversation than an actual scowling. Strange, considering the protective nature that Shiro presented himself in. 

“Yes, grays. I'm colourblind in that category.” 

“Voluntarily? Or because you can't be bother distinguishing between the two?” He asked, not bothering to hid the fact that he was indeed one step ahead of Keith in this argument.

Keith shrugged, “A bit of both.” He admitted, with a sheepish smile, before changing the subject, “How long will they retreat back? If successful – which I don't doubt – they'll be in human territory by now, facing off the second Flight.”

Shiro joined him at the edge, “Possibly, though I doubt they'll seek to cross further in, if they intend to come back and invade the Altean line,” He explained, eyes looking through the thickening of the trees, probably looking or more correctly: _feeling_ for any other presences. “They will either turn back once they reach the Outlook, and station men there, before returning here to gain their strength – it could possibly take a day or two – depending on how heavily they took our Flight's fire...” his eyes scanned back to Keith, “or they could meet on with the second Flight, and meet their end there. Possibly pushing our men back into the mountains before another army would return here, refreshed from the Galra front. That would take little of a day.” He considered his options, but before he could speak, Keith was already piecing the information back together. 

“But they could not be certain in securing the land before the mountains, Shiro. Why would they try? If they didn't succeed, then they would know they would have to fight their way back into this base here, and then fight their way into the Altean border.” _Because everyone knows that taking the Outlook would do little to none._

_So why did they look to inflict war with the humans on this front? It didn't give them any advantage, unless they actually cornered the humans back into the mountains._

Shiro shrugged, seemingly preoccupied as he moved, foot pressing on the ground lightly. “True, unless their was another reason they sorted to dispose these men.”

“It's war, they can't afford to loss men.” Keith watched as he jumped on an area twice, with a frown.

Shiro stilled him with a cool glaze, as he stopped. “They _can_ , and will. But that's not what I meant. We will destroy this base, so what would their purpose be to come back? - Unless they had something completely different in mind.” 

Shiro's look told stories to Keith, causing Keith to bridled with annoyance, “Flights don't threaten their power anymore.”

“We do,” Shiro said, unfazed by his anger as he knelt, fingers hooking around a hidden door before lifting it open. Shiro looked back at Keith, before checking his pockets, “look at us now.” He pointed out, fingers fumbling to find matches.

Keith found his frown increasing as he joined him at the trapdoor, unable to feel a little bit targeted, “But they have their own Flights,” he pointed out, in spite of not needing to, “putting an army out in jeopardy for a couple of Flights seem a little excessive.” 

Shiro spared him one more look before dropping himself down, voice echoing off the metal that it was constructed from. The small cry from his bones felt it's song of bitterness and found a yearning that developed in his chest – not the metals were never his calling, so Keith shook it off as he followed the voice. “It does,” Shiro admitted, “But that never stops the madmen.” He commented striking a match. Before Keith retort a comment about the use of the flame, he offered him look of cool contempt.

_Using your power is like a magnet to exhaustion – if you can avoid using it, then avoid it._

Oh yes, another unspoken listen that had Keith grilling the sense of failure. Shiro after all didn't even need to communicate at all for Keith to get the point, Shiro demonstrated so well on his face.

Keith sighed again, “Alright.” And then he went to work, filing through the paper that littered the floor, words leaking from the dampened papers, photos fading as they too drained off the ink that preserved them. “it's so wet here.” Keith commented, running a hand over the walls of metal.

And yet no signs of where the leakage came from. 

Shiro nodded, setting another pile of letters down, “Strange,” he admitted, “the roots of the trees should gather up any moisture of this earth.”

Keith found himself joining at Shiro's side, “How did they manage to get the steel on sight?” 

Shiro gave him a long look, “Obviously someone that can wield the essence of metal objects, someone experience enough to pull the iron from the soil to create this room within the earth itself.” 

“Which means that they had an Earth _Tutor_ on sight too.” Keith found himself wondering whether or not they were each other's companions like himself and Shiro, or completely set apart.

Shiro nodded, kneeling as ran a hand over the soil “Or _Rector_ , yes.” 

“We have a spy in our ranks.” It was obvious, but Keith needed the words to kindle the hate into his bones anyway and saying it aloud did help. 

“And possibly now enjoying the temporary pleasures the Garla ranks have to offer.” Shiro stood from his kneeling posture, wiping his hands on his trousers, eyes hard. 

“Or still hoping to weasel out a few more secrets before heading that way.” Keith enjoyed testing Shiro as much as Shiro enjoyed testing him, maybe it was because both felt inclined to test each others minds even after all this time.

Shiro shook his head, indicating they should leave, “I highly doubt it, all spies from that group will be trailed and if suspected of any wrong...” the taller man trailed off, lifting himself back to the surface.

Being a traitor to either side of the war wasn't the best thing you could possibly do for yourself, it offered only pain and possibly a quick death afterwards. Usually though, it only offered the first and never the second. 

Keith followed a little bit slower, “Good point.” And that's all he had to say. Throwing in the mention of torture wasn't a good idea if you wanted to keep in a good mood. 

Keith wasn't the only one coming up with words, Shiro visibly struggled to think of words that would possibly smother over the black topic for the younger individual – he after all, had been in the war for a longer period than his companion and had learnt to deal with daunting topics such as this. 

Keith wasn't stupid, he hadn't believed that his side was always right – and through that did good deeds. There ways of dealing with certain aspects that both sides shared in – each as uglier as each other. 

But the truth did hurt a boy who believed that his heroes (such as the Rebellion) could do horrible deeds on a being – and Keith hadn't completely left boyhood behind. Not yet, though he liked to think he had. 

Shiro knew better than that though. 

“We'll lit this thing up.” Shiro said instead, finally after a pause of reflection, words sailing across the Keith, in harsh whispers.  

Keith forced a smile to his lips rubbing his hands, though no flames came to caress the flesh there, “Alright.” 

-

The flames reached high, before the two individuals decided to circle back and join the second Flight. It would have them back into war again, but it would be better than deserting the Rebellion home ground – even if it was falling into oblivion.

Things were turning the worst for wear, though the Altean ground remained mostly under Alfor's control still. But even his ranks were thinning horribly and the alliance looked thinner than ever.

The Rebellion, undoubtedly would sink into Alfor's protection – but then how would he hold?

He was powerful, yes, but there was only certain amount before his ranks were completely broken.

Would he bow to the Garla principal of life? Would he bear his people becoming enslaved and belittled? Or would he shelter those who promise a life of freedom until he was brought down? 

Pulling himself out of his own thoughts, Keith followed his _Rector_ through the trees, his companion lighter on his feet, as he trailed effortlessly on the fallen trees that clustered through and through. Keith stuck closely to his heel, silently, not bothering to fill the silence.

It seemed that either could Shiro. 

And so both remained in the depths of their mind, moving through the growth leading the smoke of the burning base out into the cooling battleground. Suddenly Shiro stopped to regard Keith, eyes alert and suddenly watchful. “Code Wasp Sting.” He barked, leaping off the fallen log in one graceful swoop, the air tightening around them. 

Keith was on the ground within moments as the shots pinged against the trees, barks' breaking under the impact. Backed against a tree, Shiro hissed, “They are all around us.” 

“How didn't-” Keith snapped, but before he could finish, the shots resumed, though not hitting their desired target. Keith cussed, eyes drifting passed the trees that surrounded them. “How many?” He whispered, heart aching as it hammered. 

Shiro's nostrils flared, as though taking in their scent, “I-I don't-” his lips twitched down, eyes glowing, “thirty men, one _Rector_ , four _Tutors_.” 

Keith frowned, feeling strange for asking, “Are you sure?” Shiro was never wrong when it came these sort of things. 

Shiro's eyes flickered over to the fire-boy, dark and angry – but it wasn't to him, Keith knew, it was to himself. “Quite.” He managed finally.

Keith nodded, thankful for the grass to conceal him for the untrained eye of a normal solider. “I'll burn them out.” He promised, as Shiro gingerly nodded, eyes still dark and hooded. 

What caused him on such an edge, Keith had no idea. Why he didn't break their necks was another question. Shiro was playing around back there, determined not to drained any strength that he could possibly need.

But when numbers came to these, he hadn't had a choice, had he? No. 

Breathing deep, he focused, body heaving against the pockets of energy that remained in him – trapped in him. Chocked in him. Frowning, he forced it to the surface, but it came to a halt, the ache in his bones didn't grow as the power immense and flowed. It remained trapped completely. _Unmovable_. “Trapped.” He grasped, body quivering with the effect, the struggle coming harder now. 

Shiro cussed, “When they get close enough.” He managed, sweat breaking out on his forehead, he was breathing heavily, “Something's chocking them.” He rasped, the air from him draining.

The men dropped closer, the _Rector_ showed himself against the shadows of the heavy-set of the trees. He was human – completely and utterly – but the snarl told Keith everything he had to know. 

Who's side he was on. _Traitor_. 

The flames within him kindled, warming his palms as the male approached easily – like he had won.

Keith suddenly shouted, shooting up and charging with all his power, flames kissing the fingers tips and beyond. The male smirked, stride not faulting, eyes keeping on Keith. “Weak.” He cooed, as an unknown agony ripped at at him, the familiar ache of being trapped tearing the energy inside Keith, screaming, hurting. _Burning._

Keith heard himself cry in pain, though had no memory of starting as he clasped hard onto his knees, a sob trembling from his lips, Keith's dignity trapped with his soul.

“You are too weak, _Tutor_. You are a fool.” The male's voice was vaguely familiar, though Keith couldn't place it, nor put a name to what he wielded.

He edged closer, eyes golden eyes flickering over Keith, who kept frozen in the long grass, “As are you _Rector_ , you should've known better.” His voice was silk, as though he was speaking to a lover. But Keith could only place it as mockery as Shiro staggered into view, eyes fiery. 

“You will let him go, _Traitor_. Or I shall make you regret that you didn't.” He snarled lowly, shoulders tense. It sounded more animistic than Shiro who uttered those words. Sounded like a man who knew exactly how men like, Golden-eyes, acted.

Golden-eyes chuckled, “Do you have the power then?” 

Obviously not, but Shiro charged nonetheless, air aching up with him, channeling towards him, ready to tear the man apart.

Shiro was a strong _Rector_ , impossibly quick, and double gifted, he was favored with everyone among the Rebellion. Keith had never seen him get bested before, _never,_ and when he finally did, Keith was the one painfully twisting against their harsh anger. His lungs ached, air ripping away from him, as he withered to the ground. _No. No. No._

Panting, Shiro draw his power back sharply, the air creasing into nothing. “Keith!” Shiro managed hoarsely, coaxing the air back into him, as the boy gagged uncontrollably on the ground. Shiro turned his attention to Golden-eyes, teeth flashing. But he daren't utter a word.

“You can't defeat me, Shiro. Nor should you,” The male spoke, voice still warm, “I am saving you for you own destruction.” 

Appearing puzzled, Shiro tilted his chin upwards, “Is that was you truly believe, Kuro?” 

Kuro grinned, daring to step closer as his face melted into one very much like Shiro's - Shiro's face quaked as struggling with strong emotion. “Oh I do believe it.” And then Kuro was laughing.

  
  


 


End file.
